On the terrace, the moonlight is like water.
The slight restlessness in his heart was carried away by the cool breeze, Fujiwara Reya leaned against the exquisitely carved redwood railing, gazing at the full moon in the sky. The clouds surrounding the moon were cold and gray, as was the moon itself, reflecting the essence of autumn.
By now, the fireworks had ended, and the night sky would no longer be illuminated. Guests began to focus on fine wines and delicacies, engaging in conversations with the geishas. Slightly intoxicated, with vibrant lanterns hanging high, it was a subtle moment where joy and bustle intertwined.
The Snow Woman sat cross-legged on the tatami, resting her head on her hand, looking toward her master.
Her small mouth pouted, her eyes slightly resentful, giving the impression of withered grass under the sun, listless.
Don't blame Snow Treasure for being unhappy, it's just because the master is too fickle.
